After almost a half-mile, she squinted at movement ahead. The horse car drew near. Should she travel the rest of the way alone and on foot or ride in relative comfort inside a car likely filled with backbiters and busybodies? She craned her neck to see how many people occupied the conveyance. From where she stood, she couldn’t tell.
A rivulet of perspiration wended its way down the side of her face, and she brushed it away with her sleeve. Perry would chastise her for walking the whole distance. Gathering her courage—or maybe she didn’t care enough anymore—Joanna waved to the driver.
After he stopped the dappled draft horses alongside her, she peered up at the open windows to glimpse into the car—not that she could see much beyond the side on which she stood.
“You fixin’ to board, ma’am?”
Joanna hesitated, then climbed the steps and handed the conductor on the platform her nickel. Before she’d chosen a place to sit, the car jerked and rolled forward on the tracks. She fell onto the nearest seat and grabbed her tilted hat. Its pins pulled at the roots of her hair.
A snicker rolled up the aisle from the back. She twisted to glance over her shoulder at the person who laughed at her. A young man erupted with humor again, but his attention was fastened on the lovely girl beside him. No one else paid Joanna any mind. She faced forward and slumped in the seat, irritated with herself for being so sensitive.
The clouds arrived, as did the rain. By the time they reached Broad Street, surprisingly, she had relaxed to the point of sitting straight. The rain had stopped, and the rest of her walk was muddy but uneventful.
Joanna entered the Stewart Broom Factory building to the soft and distant rumble of thunder. She’d reached the bottom tread of the stairs on her way to the second floor and Perry’s office when the young man behind the front desk called out, “I’m afraid Mr. Stewart is not in his office, Mrs. Stewart.”
She returned to the desk. “Do you know where he is?”
The clerk rose from his chair. “In the factory. I’ll tell him you’re here.”
“That’s not necessary. I’ll find him.” She marched down the hall and out the back door of the office building.
Head down and dodging puddles, Joanna hurried across the red, muddy yard toward the brick building where Perry manufactured his brooms. At the approaching creak and rattle of a horse-drawn wagon, she stopped and waited for it to roll past, its tarp-covered load of crated brooms tied down in the bed. She knew enough about the operation to expect its destination to be the railroad depot.
Clayton never took an interest in the company Perry managed. He’d bought it to give his son experience in the business world, but considered it beneath a Stewart’s serious attention. However, Perry built it into a profitable venture. Stewart brooms were sold in stores on both sides of the Mississippi. One day, Perry hoped to ship his products as far as California—farther if he could arrange it.
She stepped through the doorway of the two-story factory and stopped to let her eyes adjust to an interior darkened by more threatening weather.
Bales of broom corn, each weighing over two hundred pounds, and multiple crates of handles were stored in the loft covering the opposite side of the room. Dust from the materials formed a constant gray layer of grit on the windows. Tiny particles danced in the light from gas lamps around the open space while shadows occupied the corners.
The intermittent buzz of a saw came from an adjacent room where wood was cut into the proper lengths for the various types of brooms, and lathes molded the handles.
The making of a broom was more a craft than mechanized labor, and Joanna never tired of watching Perry’s employees use the foot pedals on machines to turn the wire that tied the damp broom corn to the handle. Sections of the brush were added a few at a time, and with skillful twists, turns, and cuts, shoulders formed and the broom took shape, all held in place with tacks and thin strands of wire. Once the material dried, the brooms were placed in a clamp device and sewn to hold their structure. Those who were proficient constructed a broom in a matter of minutes. Perry hired only those who were proficient.
Almost two dozen men, women, and children, a couple of the latter no older than ten, were busy with various tasks from toting the broom corn and handles to putting together the goods. In the far corner, two women bound a stack of finished brooms to be shipped. Each employee was too busy with his or her own job to notice Joanna.
Last Christmas, she had purchased a child-sized broom for Annie to play housewife. When were these children allowed to play? Would a ten-hour workday soon be Annie’s fate? Not if Rose would let Joanna be of help. That looked less likely after this morning. From now on, she would try not to alienate Rose further. Joanna had no child, never would, and she had better remember it.
After failing to see Perry, she tapped the nearest woman on the shoulder. “Excuse me, do you know where I’ll find Mr. Stewart?”
The woman, wearing an apron over a faded calico dress, jerked her head. “He left through that door a short time ago, ma’am.”
“Thank you.”
Joanna walked across the room to the side door, looked around, and spotted Perry standing with his back to her at the corner of a shed about twenty feet away. He was talking to someone, but the building hid all except the man’s right arm and half his booted feet. Renewed raindrops pockmarked the ground between them. Not wanting to intrude, she waited in the doorway of the factory building for Perry to finish his conversation.
As if sensing her presence, he looked over his shoulder and his eyes widened. “Jo?”
His companion stepped back behind the wall of the shed.
Perry strolled across the yard. “This is a surprise. How did you get to town?”
Despite the increasing sprinkles, she met him halfway. “I rode the horse car.”
His brows shot upward. “That’s an even greater surprise. Whatever made you want to see me must be important.”
“It wasn’t important enough to interrupt your conversation.”
“Don’t worry.” He glanced behind him, then gripped her elbow. “Why don’t you go to my office before you’re soaked to the bone? I’ll meet you there in a minute, and we’ll talk.”
Joanna leaned sideways, expecting the man Perry had been speaking with to step out into the open. He remained unseen. Drops of rain dripped off the brim of her hat. If she stood here any longer, she’d be drenched.
While waiting in Perry’s office, Joanna checked the clock on the wall at least a half dozen times. She sat in the chair across from his desk for fifteen minutes and mulled over whether or not to discuss her conflict with Rose. While it might be insightful to receive Perry’s advice, she decided to keep their quarrel to herself. He would only take her side against Rose.
Needing to stretch, she stood and twisted her upper body from side-to-side, then walked to the window overlooking the factory building. The rain fell in earnest and beat against the glass. Perry leapt over puddles as he trotted to the rear door of the office building.
Another man stepped from the side of the factory building headed toward the street. Hands in his pockets, his long, quick, and determined strides ate up the yards until he vanished from her line of sight.
Even through the rain and keeping his cap-covered head down, she would have known him anywhere. She had focused on his shoes, imagining they were the same ones she’d seen on the man at the shed earlier, though it was hard to tell from this distance. They looked like the normal footwear of a working man. If he was the same person, what business did he have with Perry?
The office door opened. Perry brushed the dampness from the material of his suit coat and smoothed his wet hair. “I’m sorry to leave you for so long.”
Joanna spun and her body tensed. The man she’d seen in the yard had more nerve than was good for him. “What was Liam doing here?”
Perry frowned as he entered his office and shut the door. The thump of his footsteps ended at the edge of the oriental carpet where he removed his
shoes. “I hope you don’t mind, Jo. I don’t want to get mud on the carpet.”
She couldn’t wait any longer. “You haven’t answered me. Why was Liam here?”
He gestured for her to sit. After she returned to the seat she’d previously occupied, he eased into the chair behind his desk. “Liam came to me looking for a job.”
“A job?” Why would he bother to seek work when she would soon pay him the money he demanded?
A violent clap of thunder shook the walls, but the rain had slowed.
“What did you tell him?”
“I told him no, of course.” Perry’s chair squeaked as he leaned across the desk. A drop of water fell from a lock of his wavy hair onto the polished wood. He grimaced and brushed it away. “Look, Jo, I know how you feel about him and for good reason. I won’t tolerate a man who mistreats a woman. I told him to look for work elsewhere.”
“Thank you, Perry.” Her jaw relaxed, but she couldn’t rid her memory of seeing Liam sneaking out of sight as he’d done. “Why didn’t he ask to meet you in your office?”
Perry shrugged. “I happened to be walking past the shed, and he called to me. Why invite him up here when I had no intention of talking to him for long?”
That made sense. “Yes, of course.”
He gave the desktop a soft rap with the flat of his hand and grinned. “Now that’s settled, maybe you’ll put my curiosity to rest and tell me why you hopped aboard a horse car to come see me. Naturally, you can’t go long without my witty and charming personality, but …” He waggled his eyebrows, and Joanna laughed at his silliness.
She forced her troubles from her mind, pulled three photographs from her purse, and laid them in front of him on the desk. “I know you chose the sentimental items you wanted when you moved out of your father’s house several years ago, but I’ve been going through his things and found these. You should have them.”
He picked up the top photograph of his mother and caressed the cardboard-backed, paper image with his thumb. “I remember the day this was taken.”
“She was very pretty.”
“Yes.” Perry glanced up. “Whatever one may have thought of him, there’s no denying that my father had excellent taste in women.”
At the compliment, a burst of heat set fire to Joanna’s face. Or was it ignited by the intensity of the devotion that flared in Perry’s eyes? On days like today, she wished she felt that same devotion for him.
“I won’t give up on us.” He dropped the photograph onto the desk. “Stay in Banesville, Jo. Marry me.”
She was as accustomed to his proposals as he was to her refusals. They came every six months as if he wrote the dates on the calendar. This one had come early. Clearly, he loved her. Which was the greater wrong, marrying Perry, which would subject him to the contempt of his peers, or wounding his sense of worth in an effort to protect him?
As if he heard her thoughts, he asked, “Why do you allow the opinions of a group of gossips to rule your life?”
Yes, his welfare made her reluctant to marry him, but in all honesty, it wasn’t the complete reason she continued to say no. Marriage required too much honesty from her. It meant revealing her past to him as she had done with his father—with disastrous results. What if Perry turned on her in a like manner … or worse? What if, out of hurt and spite, he revealed her secret to Kit?
“I can’t. Choose someone better than me, Perry.”
From the other side of the desk, his long exhalation of breath spoke his frustration. He pushed up from the chair and glanced out the window. “The rain is passing, and I’m hungry. If you won’t agree to marry me, at least agree to have lunch with me.”
Joanna hadn’t entered a crowded restaurant since Clayton died and the talk began. The idea of it stifled her reply.
“You rode the horse car here, Jo. You can do this, too.”
Again, he knew her thoughts, but could she really do what he asked of her?
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Perry’s hand at her back as he ushered her into Hardiman’s Restaurant provided Joanna an ounce of comfort, even as a pound of anxiety rushed through her veins. She hadn’t the courage to look around for the privacy of a corner table. Her eyes guided her feet straight to the empty one near the front door.
He pulled a chair out for her and took his place across the table. “Don’t look now, but Kit is seated in the back corner of the room.”
Joanna paused in the process of laying her gloves across her lap. “Really?” She spread her napkin over the gloves, determined not to look, but her gaze betrayed her and drifted in Kit’s direction. Their stares locked, forbidding either of them to pretend they hadn’t seen the other.
He rose from his seat and ambled toward them down the center aisle of the crowded restaurant. Her heart thundered with each step that brought him closer. Please, walk past and out the door. Joanna had been worried about meeting an old friend of Clayton’s and being snubbed. This was worse.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Stewart. Perry.”
Perry shook his hand. “Are you eating alone, Kit?”
“I came in for a quick meal.”
“Why not join us?” Perry smiled down at Joanna. “You don’t mind, do you, Jo?”
Joanna peered around the room. Actually, Kit’s presence might work to her advantage. If any of Clayton’s friends saw them together, they couldn’t assume the luncheon was a social engagement between her and Perry. Moreover, she needn’t converse with Kit. “Not at all.”
From Kit’s hesitation, she guessed he searched for an excuse to decline. “Are you sure I wouldn’t be intruding, Joanna?” His gaze bounced between her and Perry. Did Kit believe she preferred to be alone with Perry?
“I don’t mind.” Regardless of her best attempt, her answer sounded more a hiss than a cordial invitation.
They ordered, and Kit returned to their table with his meal. Even though they encouraged him to eat his food while it was hot, he waited until they received theirs.
Kit jabbed a piece of meatloaf with his fork. “Is Annie well?”
With Rose’s censure fresh in her mind, Joanna replied with a simple “Yes” and cut into her veal cutlet.
“How are your plans progressing, Kit?” Perry sampled the steak on his plate and nodded his approval.
“Coming along.”
“May I ask how you and Mr. Greer became involved in your cause?”
Kit darted an uneasy glance in Joanna’s direction. When she said nothing, he turned to Perry. “To put it bluntly, I was a drunkard myself.”
Perry eyed him but didn’t appear surprised. “Then you have empathy with the men you help.”
“Yes.”
“It must be rewarding and difficult work. Aren’t those matters best left to physicians? It’s my understanding that many of them believe it’s too dangerous to try to cure alcoholism through the instant cessation of drink.”
Kit lowered his fork. “It’s not an uncommon practice to wean drunkards off liquor a bit at a time or use opium, cocaine, even strychnine, to ease the body’s cravings. While we give our men a choice of treatment based on a physician’s opinion, Ben and I have established a regimen that promotes a healthy body, peaceful home life, and spiritual growth.”
Joanna focused on her meal, hoping to give the impression she paid no attention to the conversation between the men. In truth, she listened to every word.
When Kit spoke of finding God and claimed he’d been forgiven for the wrongs he committed in the past, the fork slipped from Joanna’s hand and clattered onto her plate. Kit stopped talking. Perry lifted an indulgent smile that grated on her.
“Pardon me.” Picking up her fork worked as a cue for Kit to continue his story.
Was it possible for a person to change as much as he led them to believe?
The first time she saw him at the Everspring Ball, he’d captured the interest of many an empty-headed woman, including her. In the months that followed, she watched as Kit bewitched young woman after
young woman. She was content with snatching moments here and there in his company while Hugh grew ever more determined to win her hand.
Joanna had admired the older brother, but his staid personality competed with Kit’s magnetism and carefree attitude. Too young and immature to seriously consider his flaws, she allowed herself to be swayed by an attractive face, pretty words, and temporary relief from the constricting and joyless environment at home.
How stupid she had been to fall for the rogue instead of the stable, dependable brother—the one who loved her. Now, in listening to Kit’s enthusiasm and his plans for the Spencer Brockhurst House, she found herself in danger of becoming stupid again.
Joanna set her fork on the plate. “If you don’t mind, Perry, I should return home.”
“You haven’t finished eating.”
“I’m not hungry.” As she stood, so did the men.
Perry set his napkin on the table. “I have a meeting in half an hour. Why don’t you wait at the office until I’m finished, and I’ll drive you.”
“Rose and I have a number of tasks to complete before the house is sold.” To relieve his concern, she forced a smile. “It’s not necessary to drive me. I’m capable of riding the horse car now.”
“As proud as I am of your daring, I’d rather you not travel alone.”
Kit dug into a pocket and threw various coins on the table to cover the cost of all their meals. “I’ll be happy to escort Joanna home.”
She frowned. “It’s not—”
“Necessary. I know. Are you ready?”
No. At Kit’s grin, her refusal evaporated.
***
Kit and Joanna exited the restaurant into sunshine. Gone was the heaviness in the air. It was replaced by a tension hanging between them that threatened to rain on their trip.
Food aromas mixed with the odors of manure in the street. When a woman wearing too much perfume or a man with a strong cologne passed by, Kit inhaled the fragrance to take his mind off Joanna and her pleasing lilac scent.
A Reluctant Melody - Will she risk losing everything … including her heart? Page 10
